


lost for words

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Praise Kink, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Talking During Sex, coming on command
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: Qui-Gon has already come once, but he thinks it will be quite some time before he lets Obi-Wan follow suit.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 209
Collections: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan May the Fourth be With You Prompt Meme





	lost for words

**Author's Note:**

> From this scorching prompt from [Orientalld](https://orientalld.tumblr.com/): “I would love to read something hot with Obi-Wan’s ability to come on Qui-Gon’s command. I mean he’s a brilliant Jedi and a General and a Master himself, but!..if he wishes he could be a very good and obedient boy. And Qui-Gon enjoys keeping him on an edge and knowing that he won’t spill until he’s allowed to! (and Qui only allows it when the famous negotiator can not remember any other word except for PLEASE)

Qui-Gon has already come once, but he thinks it will be quite some time before he lets Obi-Wan follow suit. He can see his own release slipping out of Obi-Wan’s hole around the two fingers now holding him open, and calmly adds a third to help press it back in where it belongs.

“Tell me,” Qui-Gon says from where he is kneeling on the mattress. He has one of Obi-Wan’s legs draped over his shoulder, and turns to press a kiss against soft skin. “How would you negotiate a treaty between the Kesta and Veti systems?”

Obi-Wan is so open and wet that Qui-Gon’s fingers have an easy slide. He twists his hand so that his knuckles are catching less smoothly against Obi-Wan’s swollen rim, giving him the friction he always loves, and Obi-Wan’s fists clench in the damp sheets that have started to come loose from the corners of Qui-Gon’s bed.

“I would begin,” Obi-Wan pants, “by app…I would begin by approaching the magistrates on Veti…”

Obi-Wan manages to string together a passable course of action, one that allows for both Veti’s obsession with precedence and Kesta’s spirit of rebellion, and Qui-Gon smiles.

It would be a solid plan by anyone’s standards but Obi-Wan’s own.

His silver tongued Negotiator is beginning to unravel.

Still, he has answered Qui-Gon’s question well enough, and Qui-Gon rewards him by letting his fingers bump up against his prostate on the next glide inward. Obi-Wan lets out a broken sound, and Qui-Gon presses his advantage with a devastating curl of one digit. “Good. Now explain to me, in detail, the election process on Demai.”

There is something almost obscene about kneeling here between Obi-Wan’s thighs, requiring him to talk strategy and plot tactics and cite facts until Qui-Gon decides to finish him off. Obi-Wan can end it any time he wants, can impel Qui-Gon to be merciful whenever he wishes, but Qui-Gon doesn’t think he will. It would rather defeat the purpose, which is to leave Obi-Wan a shuddering mess that mere orgasm alone cannot achieve.

The rules of the game are exceedingly simple: only when Obi-Wan can no longer answer Qui-Gon’s questions, only when he has been reduced to incoherence, will Qui-Gon allow him to come. Qui-Gon had suggested it after a simple supper that evening, and Obi-Wan had smiled his slow smile as the light glinted off his auburn hair and beard. 

“Demai.” Here in the present, Obi-Wan’s voice cracks a little on the word. Qui-Gon encourages him by pressing the flat of his thumb against Obi-Wan’s perineum on the next thrust. “The people of Demai elect…they elect a King.”

Qui-Gon hums in agreement and rubs his other hand against the straining muscles of Obi-Wan’s leg where it rests on his shoulder. He waits, because that’s not all the people of Demai elect. His fingers thrust into Obi-Wan again and this time don’t retreat, just rub gently again and again over the bundle of nerves within.

“And a Queen,” Obi-Wan finally gasps out after a long moment that has the blood pounding in Qui-Gon’s ears. “And a successor!”

His voice is triumphant as he gets the last out, because yes, Demai does indeed elect a trinity of officials. He is beautiful in his victory, spread out on Qui-Gon’s bed. His hair, damp and sweaty, frames the angles of his face where it turns to press against Qui-Gon’s pillows, and his abdominals are heaving as he draws air into starved lungs.

Qui-Gon can feel his own cock beginning to stir at the sight, and he thinks he will be able to fuck Obi-Wan again before long. 

“ _Very_ good,” Qui-Gon tells him. He draws his fingers out and watches as Obi-Wan catches his lip between his own teeth, hips shifting in an attempt to keep Qui-Gon’s fingers in him. He is flushed a little from the praise, and Qui-Gon’s heart aches that this man, the pride of the Jedi Order, still craves approval from him. He tries to be liberal with it, but there is always room for improvement. “Very good, Obi-Wan,” he says again, softly.

Qui-Gon takes a moment to survey his handiwork and to plan his next move. Obi-Wan’s cock is flushed and straining for attention where it lies against his stomach, wet and sticky at the tip. Qui-Gon had already given it plenty of attention before first fucking into him, taking it deep into the back of his throat until Obi-Wan was practically vibrating with tension.

But he’s certainly not averse to giving it more, so he gently lowers Obi-Wan’s leg back to the mattress and leans down to wrap his lips around the head with a loose, wet suction that fills the room with soft noise.

Obi-Wan lifts his hips as much as he can, trying to push further inside, and Qui-Gon wants to smile. He draws his mouth from Obi-Wan’s cock and waits, for a moment, until Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter open.

“Watch me,” Qui-Gon instructs, and his voice sounds lower than normal to his own ears in the heavy air that surrounds them. 

Obi-Wan manages to dig his elbows into the mattress, levering himself up just enough to give himself a better view. Qui-Gon can see the slight tremble to his arms, and thinks it won’t be long, now.

“Good,” Qui-Gon murmurs, and when he’s certain that Obi-Wan’s arms won’t give out quite yet, he leans back in to press a messy kiss to the head of his cock. “Now tell me what systems trade with Besba.” He lets his tongue curl momentarily into Obi-Wan’s slit. “All twenty-seven of them.”

Obi-Wan only makes it through seven before his arms give out.

He makes it through nineteen before he cannot go on, head thrashing against the pillows.

The twentieth system he gasps out is, “ _Please_ , Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon allows himself one last taste before he levers himself up the bed, bracketing Obi-Wan’s body with his own. Obi-Wan’s skin is hot, almost feverish, a furnace that warms the darkest places in Qui-Gon’s soul.

“Look at me,” he commands, as he presses a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek, his chin, his nose. When Obi-Wan does and Qui-Gon can see the blue around his blown pupils, he reaches down to hitch one of Obi-Wan’s legs up around his hips.

Qui-Gon has been fully hard again since the twelfth system, when one of Obi-Wan’s trembling hands had reached out to clutch the loose fall of his hair, so it is an easy enough matter to slide back into Obi-Wan’s body, fitting himself where he always, always wants to be. Obi-Wan had taken his fingers easily enough, earlier on, but he’s still tight enough on Qui-Gon’s cock that Qui-Gon has to press their faces together to steady himself as he rocks all the way in. He can feel Obi-Wan’s arms tight on his back and it’s almost enough to undo him.

He breathes the words against Obi-Wan’s temple, lets him feel them as much as hear them. “Now, Obi-Wan. Let me feel it.”

Obi-Wan is coming messily between them almost before Qui-Gon gets the first word out, his hole clenching down around Qui-Gon’s cock. Qui-Gon fucks him slowly through the orgasm and beyond, until he cannot hold back his second release any longer.

Qui-Gon finally collapses down against Obi-Wan’s body, his face buried in the juncture where shoulder meets neck. After long moments where they just breathe together, he rolls to his back and tugs at Obi-Wan until his lover is comfortably draped against his chest.

Obi-Wan lies there for a moment, and then pushes himself up just a little so he can see Qui-Gon’s face. “You know that the Besba have never revealed the twenty-seventh system, right?”

Qui-Gon smiles up at him. “Well,” he says as his fingers trace the curl of Obi-Wan’s ear, brush through the strands of his hair. “I would have let you improvise.” He draws Obi-Wan down for a kiss, and adds, just before their mouths meet: “If you’d gotten that far.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) :)


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